


A Twist of Fate

by audriannas9, audricat (audriannas9)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-04-20 17:49:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14266386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audriannas9/pseuds/audriannas9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/audriannas9/pseuds/audricat
Summary: Draco's life changes at the age of eight, and he is sent to live with his Aunt for the years after.At thirteen, Aunt Ellen decides to let him attend Hogwarts, and the years that follow are twisted and interwoven with fate as Draco navigates his new life from disaster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1

Draco pushed through teeming students on the Hogwarts Express, all dressed in varying degrees of muggle clothing and colored robes.  
They gave no notice to him, and he pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his hoodie.  
Swallowing hard, he walked faster and shoved past a boy with curly hair and hazy eyes.  
He clasped his hands around a letter tightly, pausing to reassure himself that it was still there and still said his name.  
The letter was furled, worn at the edges, and had come on his thirteenth birthday.  
At first, he had stared at it in dumbfound confusion, before his Aunt told him to close his mouth, letting him now that she couldn’t tutor him any longer because she would be busy at the ministry, and Hogwarts wasn’t all that bad of a school as she had first suspected after talking to Professor Hagrid.  
She said all this in one breath, talking to herself, not expecting a response from Draco, but Draco had agreed nonetheless.  
At the platform, she had patted him on the shoulder while nudging him forward, saying that all would be well. And that he should try to meet friends his own age, nice ones, and not the ones he had grown up with.  
Draco had nodded, and agreed that he would he try to meet children like that, if there were such a thing.  
Secretly, Draco wanted to be alone to reassure himself, to gain a surer footing before he braved the world of actual people.  
Clenching his fists, he pushed past a red-headed girl that smiled kindly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Nodding hello silently, he stumbled, and came to a stop at a glass door with an exit sign and…green hills rolling past in the shapes of trees and grass.  
To his left and right there were compartments on either side, obviously with people behind him, and he had no idea what to do.  
Draco didn’t know how to make friends, hadn’t had any since he was eight. He had no standing to put himself on, and there was a faint flash of remembrance in the shape of his father before he disappeared too in the swirling grey memories of a pensive.  
Draco shook his head, it would be no good to think of that again, glancing to his right, he heard laughter echo from within the closed doors.  
Draco sighed.  
He saw two options, or three, or many more, he supposed, depending on the way you looked at it. He could open the door to his left, which was most likely empty, or open the one to his right, and hope there could be people that were nice behind it, or…he could walk back and find a different compartment, he could step off the train entirely, and adopt a new name and become Draco or a man named Drew.  
There were options, Draco had options.  
So, let it be known, that if time goes by, and this was a moment he would regret, let it be known, that he could have changed it all if he had simply stepped back and found another group of people to meet.  
Draco just wanted that to be known, for even he did not know how this day or year, or sentence would end.  
Without his better knowledge, Draco knocked on the door to his right. The wood beneath was mahogany and there was a little square of glass that Draco could look through if he went up on his tiptoes.  
A scuffle and a bang shot out from behind the door at his knock, and Draco wanted to run and take his other options.  
There was still time, after all, he could still make a break for Albania and live his life as a Healer in the forests of the mountains.  
It was still possible, and Draco backed up a step and another and was about to turn when the door slid open and a boy peeked his head out.  
Draco froze, and stared unblinkingly at the boy, refusing to meet his eyes as he blurted out the first thing he could think of. “I don’t have anywhere to sit.”  
Sometimes, Draco wondered why he even tried, if this is what happened.  
The boy tilted his head quizzically, Draco rushed to remedy his last question. “Do you mind if I sit here, with you, in your compartment?”  
Silence.  
Draco scowled, this would have never happened to him before, people never ignored him, he had made sure of that.  
“I don’t have anywhere to sit.” He reiterated, lifting both his eyebrows.  
Maybe, Draco had chosen the wrong person to befriend, as this one seemed to have a worse social behavior then himself.  
The boy jumped in place, and ran a hair through his hair. Which, on closer inspection, seemed entirely too messy. “Uh, I’m sorry, you don’t look like a first year, what grade are you in?”  
Draco licked his lips, and dreaded the same story he would have to keep repeating.  
“Yes, I’m, well, I’ll be going into my third year, and I’ve been tutored at home for the past two, so…” Draco shrugged his shoulders, not knowing where to look. Maybe at the boy’s attire, which was plain and simple; jeans and a grey t-shirt that were perhaps too big, but that could be the style now.  
Draco hardly knew, the only muggle clothing he owned was this hoodie, and two pairs of jeans. One of which he was wearing now, after he had asked his elf to discreetly find him some so he wouldn’t look any different than the other students.  
It didn’t look like it was working.  
Self-consciously, he picked at the green strings of his hoodie, and shifted from his left foot to his right.  
“Oh…that’s cool. What’s your name?” He asked, the timbre of his tone surprisingly rough and soothing to Draco’s frayed nerves.  
“Harry, who is it?” A girl’s voice called out, and the boy named Harry turned his back to talk to the inhabitants within.  
Draco frowned, and looked away from the boy, and his gaze caught on the same red-headed girl from earlier. Her expression had changed though, and was now a tight-lipped grimace.  
Draco lifted his chin, and hastily looked away to look back up at the boy, who was now staring back at him, body frozen.  
Draco’s heart thumped loudly in his brain, and it was hard to recall the reasons why he was even standing here.  
The boy’s eyes were that green. They were like bottled up ink from the Apothecary store his mother used to shop at when he was younger, and Draco didn’t know that type of vibrant color could exist.  
It was unnatural, and if it weren’t for his gold framed glasses, Draco thought it would be too arresting.  
Clearing his throat, he attempted to answer the previous question, “Draco, my names Draco.” Their eyes held, his staring back intensely, and Draco wondered what he was seeing within the depths of his eyes, and if it was as obvious to him as it was to the boy that there was nothing there to see.  
The boy’s mouth was open slightly, but snapped closed as he smiled.  
“My name’s Harry.”  
Draco nodded, not daring a glance to his right again.  
“That’s nice, can I still sit with you, or is there no room?” Draco asked politely, all too weary of standing out in the open.  
Harry jumped, and pushed the door open wider, “Yeah, yeah, I, yeah, come in.” His cheeks went a pale shade of pink, and Draco tried not to stare for too long as he reached to pull the handle of his trunk forward.  
Almost instantly, he collided with Harry’s back, and stood within the middle of the compartment, staring widely at the other four occupants.  
Three of them had hair the color of the girl’s outside, and Draco questioned on what they were breeding here at Hogwarts, as he had never seen so many people with ginger hair in his life grouped together before.  
To be fair… he hardly got out to begin with.  
The fourth person sitting on the seats was a girl with curly hair, which was big and poufy and Draco skittered his gaze to the side when she smiled up at him. Looking to Harry, he angled his body away from the blatant stares to gaze down at his trunk.  
It was heavy, and he knew levitation spells, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember a single one.  
“Here, let me help you with that.” Harry noticed, bending down to brushed aside Draco’s hand, lifting the trunk up onto the train’s bench, and struggling with it until one of the red heads rushed to help.  
Draco stared at his hands as Harry secured the latch above the overhead, waiting until Harry was sitting next to the girl until he took the seat next to him.  
Across from him, the younger ginger boy took it as a good opportunity to introduce himself. “My name’s Ron, and this is Fred and George, my brothers, they’re twins, and that’s Hermione, and you already met Harry. What did you say your name was?”  
Draco swallowed, for some reason, he was finding it hard to find his voice.  
“Draco.” Harry answered, Draco smiled weakly in response.  
“What’s your last name?” One of the twins, perhaps Fred, asked.  
What an odd question, Draco lifted his gaze to stare at the looking glass boys.  
“Malfoy.”  
The twins exchanged a look immediately, Ron looking just as apprehensive, and Draco would have found it amusing if he hadn’t known the reason for those looks.  
“Was your father Lucius Malfoy by any chance?”  
Draco hesitated.  
“Why does it matter?” Harry asked.  
Fred stared at Harry for a long moment, their eyes met and battled within the space until he dropped them to Draco. He opened his mouth, and seemed to think better of the biting words trapped in his mouth, his eyes battling his with what he would not speak. “Never said it did, but we best get going, shouldn’t we, Georgie?”  
George stood up, and clapped Harry on the shoulder, “Yes, I suppose we’ve humiliated Ronald-kins enough for today, after all, tomorrows another day, and there’s always the evening.” He added, winking at Ron. He waved cheerily to Harry and Hermione, his gaze passing slowly over Draco.  
Harry shot him a look as they exited the compartment but before he could speak, Ron repeated his brother’s question from earlier.  
Draco didn’t see the point in denying it, and Ron’s expression hardened. “Do you know my father?”  
Draco could guess, and he would probably turn out right, but he didn’t think it would be wise to admit to that. Before… that day, his father used to talk about a family that consisted of a sludge of redheads with disdain and his own sense of superiority.  
“No, I’ve never met him.” It was the truth, after all, he had hardly met anyone at the Manor.  
Ron’s eyes were bright blue when they weren’t squinting so hard.  
Hermione leaned around Harry and held out her hand, “Well, I haven’t met your father, and it’s nice to meet you.”  
Draco looked at her outstretched hand and reached up to let his engulf her slightly smaller hand. “Nice to meet you as well.” He smiled at her soft smile, and Harry tapped him on his leg, bringing his attention back to the dark-haired lad.  
It hadn’t strayed very far.  
Draco flinched inwardly, and willed a blush away.  
“Do you know what house you’ll be sorted into?”  
Draco shook his head.  
“Well, he’ll be sorted into Slytherin, won’t he? His whole family comes from a bunch of snakes.”  
Harry’s brow furrowed, “That doesn’t mean he’s going to be,” he muttered.  
“Entirely unlikely that he’ll be sorted into Hufflepuff though, doesn’t it?”  
“He-.” Harry turned to Draco. “You could be sorted into Gryffindor, with us.” He jerked his head at Hermione and Ron.  
Draco wanted to agree, but Ron was probably right, the likelihood of that happening was slim. His Aunt Ellen had basically told him that on no point of return would she accept anything less.  
“No, I’ll probably be in Slytherin.” And for the first time since his dreams of finding a place at Hogwarts, did he wish that he could be in Gryffindor, only so he could be around Harry, and maybe Hermione. They were nice, and that was more then he would receive in Slytherin, surely.  
“I suppose I should have tried to find Nott, he’s from Slytherin, isn’t he? I haven’t seen him in years, though.” Draco mused. “Funnily, last year he wrote me a letter detailing of all his achievements.”  
Draco had torn it up and threw it in the ocean’s crashing waves dramatically.  
“Nott’s an ass.”  
“Ron!”  
“Well its true.” He replied indignantly. “I mean, come on, he’s not as bad as Pansy, but he’s still pretty bad, do you remember when they tried to trick us into going to the forbidden forest so we could get expelled. Like who does that?”  
Harry agreed instantly.  
Hermione shot him a glare. “Regardless,” she looked at Draco. “If they were your friends once, they can’t be that bad. You seem nice.” She added.  
Ron snorted, rather loudly.  
“What?!” She insisted, turning to look at him.  
“Nothing.” He said, holding his hands up.  
Harry grinned at their antics, a soft smile to his eyes and Draco wondered if he could ever have that directed at him. Would he ever become enough of a Gryffindor to even warrant their company?  
And if he was sorted into Slytherin, would they still want to be his friend...or acquaintance.  
It didn’t seem likely, as he had only recently boarded the train, and had seen the divide clearly amongst the students.  
Being sorted into a house was a lot like a class system, and Draco feared where he would fall on the spectrum of regret if he didn’t choose his next words carefully.  
“It sounds like they’re obsessed, if anything.” Draco supplied. “And I haven’t talked to them in at least five years.”  
Harry whipped around in his seat, grinning and Draco thought that yes, this was it, that was the type of smile he had been looking for. Lips curved up in the corner, and Draco wondered when he had become so obsessed himself.  
Ignoring that problem, he watched as Ron’s gaping mouth turned into his own grin. “Well, look it here, a decent Slytherin.”  
Draco smiled despite himself, and shrugged. “They were never that fun or nice when they visited, all they wanted to do was talk about themselves, and it got annoying.” Draco stated superiorly, tilting his chin up.  
“Yeah, I feel for you mate. I can’t imagine having to actually let them into my house.” Ron shuddered. “Ugh.”  
Draco thought it was a little over the top, but Hermione seemed to lessen in her severity and offer her own agreement.  
Within the next moment, Draco found himself immersed within talk of Quidditch, of which he knew little about, and realized he had more in common with Hermione because of books and literature. And it wasn’t that he particularly cared about studying, but when you had no other stimulant besides books and a big library, there wasn’t much else to do.  
Secretly, he would be happy if he didn’t have to read another old dictionary for at least a year.  
Harry talked endlessly about Quidditch and his favorite team; the Harpies, and Draco remedied his earlier statement, and would take a book out of the library about the different teams if he managed to make it past the first week here.

Draco glanced behind him, nervously searching for the trio of people he had met on the train, before shakily facing the front again. Girls and boys in black robes crowded around him, and Draco still foolishly wore his damn hoodie, as he had been escorted by a prefect to the front of the train to leave with the first years before he could change out of them.  
The whole situation was slightly mortifying, as he stood at least a head taller than them all, was dressed like a muggle, and was a Malfoy.  
Vaguely, he wondered if he was having a panic attack, or if his heart normally beat this loud.  
Or his head had always felt this dizzy, and the air had always been this thick.  
He vaguely remembered a Headmistress named McGonagall saying something about lining up, but really, at this rate, he was lucky to be standing.  
And when they were ushered into the Dining Hall, Draco searched for a familiar face, and caught a girl with dark hair and pretty eyes.  
“Draco, Draco!” She shouted, and Draco lifted his hand without pausing to look, and stumbled over his own feet as the first name was called. Then the second, and the next, and Draco searched frantically for the pride that his used father to tell him to exhibit.  
He was a Malfoy.  
He had been taught to sneer as a baby, and push someone down with a well timed slight.  
What he was now, was not in the slightest of what he should be.  
Malfoy was cruel, and rude, and he knew his place.  
Draco wished he had never set step foot in his father’s study that day, he wished so many things because then maybe he would be a lot surer of where he was supposed to be.  
Legs trembling, he stepped forward at the familiar name called, and sat down on the wooden stool, and waited.  
And no amount of begging or pleading would change the fact that he could be sorted into Slytherin.  
He begged, he urged, he even gave up his own reasons to be sorted into Gryffindor, and the hat jokingly spoke back saying that maybe he should be sorted into Gryffindor.  
Dammit, he hissed at the hat. Why can’t you just put me where I want to go? I won’t last in Slytherin, I don’t want to go there, shouldn’t that make a difference?  
The hat pondered this, “Sometimes… it does, but you have so much Slytherin in you, don’t you think you would be happier there? Your family would have certainly been proud.”  
“I don’t even have a family anymore, they’re gone.” Draco closed his eyes. “They’re gone. And what good does it do to do something for someone that’s not even here to see it. Who couldn’t have really cared to begin with.” Draco muttered. “I’m here, I’m living, and it will affect me. Not their memories.”  
Silence.  
Complete and utter loneliness and Draco opened his eyes. “Please, isn’t there a way? I know I’m not brave or noble, I know that, but I can try. People can change, and I’ll try, I really will. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”  
More silence, and Draco waited, clenching his fingers onto the bottom of his chair. “I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good. I’ll be good.”  
It was a mantra, and he was so immersed within it that he hadn’t noticed the hat roaring out a name. One explicable name and he turned to McGonagall and she smiled and Draco couldn’t piece it together but the table decked out in Red and Gold was cheering and it lightened his footsteps as he moved forward.  
One name, and it all shifted.  
Dumbledore’s speech ended with applause and the table in front of him cleared to empty space.  
The girl with dreadlocks that had been talking next to him about Hogwarts stood up, and Draco got to his feet as well.  
He had listened to her and took it all in, gulping down his pumpkin juice but his vision had skated across the hall, looking for Harry and spotting him a dozen faces down, nodding along to his other classmates.  
Standing, she brushed her robes off.  
“But it’ll be completely different this year, they’re putting houses together in the same common rooms. They say it’s because the dungeons flooded, but they’re going to house the third and fifth years up in Gryffindor tower, so, that’ll be…a change.” The girl with the dreadlocks related.  
“Wait, what?” Draco asked, drawn out of his stupor.  
“Weren’t you listening to Dumbledore’s speech at all? Apparently, it’s to help fix the division that has risen between the houses.”  
“Really?”  
Draco had thought he wouldn’t have to see the Slytherins once he was safely within the Gryffindor tower, but apparently, that wasn’t going to be helped.  
Downtrodden, he stared down at the table in front of him, no longer buzzing with happiness at the thought of having to see Pansy and Nott and listen to their ridicule on his sorting.  
“Come on, I’ll help you find the tower, we’re in the same year.” She paused, then looked at Draco quietly. “My names Delphine.”  
Draco looked at the food that disappeared before them, and Draco thought a hidden forest in the middle of a place where no one could find him sounded great just about now.  
“Draco.”  
Delphine smiled, and Draco tried to force himself to move and follow the throng of students that poured out the great hall, yet, his feet felt like cement, and he knew in that moment that the hat made a mistake. He did not belong in a house known for their bravery and courage, he should have been placed in Slytherin so he could hide amongst other pure-bloods and pretend to believe what they shouted at Harry and his friends down the school’s hallway.  
He should never have-.  
“Draco, I was trying to get to you earlier, I can’t believe your Aunt actually let you enroll. My mom thought you’d be tutored and bred until you were seventeen.”  
Turning, Pansy looked the same, she had the same dark hair that curled on her shoulders and the same pretty eyes, and she was smiling at Draco and Draco didn’t know what was happening, but Draco would take it.  
“I didn’t either, but…Aunt Ellen changed her mind.”  
“That’s good to hear. How is she?”  
“Good, and your parents?”  
“Good.” Pansy grinned. “It looks like we’ll be in the same dorms despite you being a lion. I can’t wait to hear what your Aunt Ellen has to say.”  
Draco grinned, and followed Pansy after Delphi give him a departing wave to leave with her own friends.  
“She’ll probably never speak to me again, but it is what it is.” Draco said ruefully.  
“Well, come on, you have to come back and say hello to Nott, they already went upstairs, and I don’t think you’ve met Blaise or Daphne before. They know all about you from Nott, anyways. He’s a gossiper, so if you tell him something, don’t, or the whole castle will know.” Pansy warned.  
“Good to know.” Draco muttered.  
They fell into step easily, and Draco wondered if Harry saw him conversing with Pansy and had decided he wasn’t worthy anymore, or something along those lines.  
Pansy talked loudly about Hogwarts, and this time around he found he didn’t care as much.  
“But you haven’t met the Golden Boy yet, he’s so annoying. You’ll see, probably witness it firsthand, he’s in your house.”  
“Who’s the-?”  
“Draco!”  
“Hey, Draco?!”  
Harry strode forward, pushing his hair off his face, and smiled at Draco’s startled expression.  
Ron stood a couple paces behind him, a weary look on his face as he looked at the spot next to Draco, but who cared about that.  
Draco certainly didn’t, not when his first day at Hogwarts had gone so well. And sure, his Aunt might be that much more disappointed in him, but he managed to convince the hat to put him in Gryffindor, and Pansy and the Slytherins didn’t seem to despise him for it, and Harry was still smiling at him.  
“Hi.” Draco breathed; Harry’s grin increased, and Draco smelled soap and clean skin when he wrapped his arms tightly around his shoulder. Draco tentatively returned the gesture, sliding his arms around his waist, and tried not to settle too deeply into the warmth.  
Pulling away, Harry’s grin increased. “You’re in Gryffindor, with me.” He stated, as if there was never another option, and Draco winced from the deceit he had to pull to get it.  
“Yeah, I noticed.” Draco lifted one of his brows, and disentangled himself from his wiry build.  
Ron stepped forward, glancing at Pansy’s sneering smirk. “You’re not rooming with us, and I think your with a Ravenclaw and Slyhterin.” Ron interrupted, annoyed, as he crossed his arms. “I don’t know why they had to change up the dorm rooms at all, though, it’s been a tradition since the start of the beginning of Hogwarts. Dumbledore must be sniffing something if he thinks that putting a snake and a lion together can end well.  
“Since you’ve always been big on tradition.” Hermione rolled her eyes, and shoved Ron. “I never took you one for the dramatics, too, seriously, I think it’ll be great for inter-house unity, and this sort of thing should have been done ages ago. The separations of houses are all rather backwards and barbaric.”  
Pansy snorted from behind him, “Muggle born,” she muttered.  
Draco had almost forgotten her presence, dreading the next words that would inevitably come from her mouth when he felt her sharp nails rifle through his hair. Inwardly cringing, Draco bent his body subtly away.  
“Don’t listen to them, Draco, we have a lot to catch up on,” she said, tugging on his arm, and Draco tripped as he tried to stay close to Harry. “I’ll help you find your room, too, come on.” Pansy insisted.  
Draco opened his mouth, and cleared his throat. “That’s ok, I mean, Ron just told me who I was rooming with, so it can’t be that hard to find.” He reasoned.“Yes, but Draco-.”  
“I’ll show him.” Harry broke in. “His new dorms across from mine, and yours are on the other side, up those stairs.” He jerked his head behind him, and Draco followed his movement, seeing that a good portion of students had already left to find their new rooms.  
The excitement at rooming with the different houses was palpable.  
“Like he wants you too, you don’t even know him.”  
“I met-.”  
“It’s fine, we’ve met on the train already, but thank you for walking me here, I’ll see you tomorrow?”  
Pansy swallowed, and pursed her lips disapprovingly. “Alright, but you’ll be sitting with me for breakfast?”  
“Of course.” Draco said readily, extracting his arms from her tight grip. “Have a goodnight.” He smiled a small smile, and avoided Harry’s eyes as he gestured for him to move, and to start walking before Pansy decided to bleed all his secrets out to dry, and he found out that he wasn’t as nice as he appeared.  
“Goodnight, Draco.” Pansy said, and walked away, Draco breathed slower.  
She did throw a nasty look at Harry before leaving, and a contemptuous one for Hermione, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been as Draco watched her march her way over to a girl with blonde hair.  
Draco assumed it was Daphne, as it was the only female Slytherin that Draco could remember from his childhood.  
“The dorms are this way.” Harry gestured to their left, and Draco followed his gaze to a mahogany set of stairs that led to the right side of their common room.  
Swallowing, Draco followed Harry, who had cast his own disgruntlement at Pansy’s retreat, and walked over to the staircases on the right side of the common room.  
Hermoine interrupted. “I’m going to go find my room, have fun.” Waving, she departed in the direction Pansy had left.  
“Yeah, you too.” Ron agreed.  
Harry nodded at her, and gestured for Draco to walk ahead of him. “Your trunks will have already been sent up.”  
“Yeah, I was wondering about that.”  
Ron ambled behind them. “Seems I was wrong about you being a Slytherin.” He spoke up. “Harry thought you’d be Ravenclaw, and Hermione strangely enough thought you’d be in Hufflepuff.”  
Scrunching up his nose, Draco tried to keep the disgust off his face. “Hufflepuff, really?”  
Ron held his hands up. “Hey, it wasn’t me, ‘Mione said it.”  
Draco thought of yellow and black, and shuddered. “Yeah, that was never an option.”  
“Hufflepuff isn’t that bad.”  
“No, it’s just not…Slytherin.”  
“Or Gryffindor.” Harry grinned.  
“Sure.” Draco said to stairs below him, keeping his smile to himself.  
Soon, though, the stairs ended and they walked down a narrow hall with oak doors on either side. Tapping his chin, Harry stopped in front of the last one on the right, and tapped the brass plaque printed on the door. “This one yours.” Squinting his eyes, Draco stepped closer to read his name, alongside Theodore Nott and Terry Boot.  
It was the last one listed, and it looked…odd.  
“Thank you.” Draco whispered. Turning the door handle in front of him, he wondered if Harry would follow him inside.  
The room was empty, and Draco was grateful for that. Harry went around Draco, surveying the room at large. “It looks a lot bigger when there’s only three beds.”  
“Why, how many are there, usually?”  
“Five.” Ron answered, he too looking slightly weary of the open space. “You should pick your bed before the other gits get here.”  
“Teddy’s not that bad, I mean, he talks about himself a lot, but…he wasn’t so bad.”  
“If you say so.” Ron cast another look at Harry maudling by the last bed, and clapped his hands together, rubbing them against dry skin. “Well, I’ll meet you up in our rooms, don’t take too long, Seamus wanted to play exploding snaps.” He saluted Harry with two fingers and nodded at Draco.  
“Yeah, ok.” Harry agreed, nodding at Ron’s retreat.  
Draco clasped his hands together in front of him, and moved closer to Harry who had taken up residence on the third bed.  
“You think this one’s a good choice?” Draco asked, cautiously moving to sit up next to Harry on the bed, crossing his legs daintily beneath him.  
“Yeah, it faces the Quidditch pitch, and I know you can’t see it now, but in the morning, it’ll be nice to look at.”  
Draco believed him.  
Harry clasped his hand awkwardly behind his neck, and the movement made his thigh hit Draco’s. Draco didn’t move, the weight comforting him.  
“Do you want to come play in our dorm room?”  
Draco couldn’t think of anything less he wanted to do, as of right now he just wanted to pull off his clothes and succumb to sleep.  
“No, I’m kind of tired, but thanks.”  
“Yeah, no problem.”  
Harry said yeah, a lot, Draco noticed.  
“No, I mean, thank you, for being nice to me, on the train.” Draco clenched his hands in his lap, his jeans bunching up under his grip. “You didn’t have to, and you did, you’re a very good person.”  
Harry looked at him curiously, and for some inexplicable reason, a faint blush bloomed across his cheeks.  
“Any decent person would have.”  
Draco grinned ruefully. “Not that many people are decent.”  
Harry looked at the sheets beneath him, and traced the soft cotton.  
“Hello, my names Terry Boot, I’m from Ravenclaw, it’s nice to meet you.”  
Startled, Draco’s mind and body came out of the peaceful lull it had been, and was objected to a wide hand stuck in his face.  
The hand spazzed in the air, and Draco tentatively shook it, hoping it would disparate.  
“Harry, Ron was asking for you, he said it was important, something about a black dog. Frankly, he was rather rude about it.” Terry sniffed, and Draco thought his pompousness was borderline amusing.  
“Ah, right, ok.” Harry stood up from the bed, and squeezed Draco’s shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, its actually important, what Ron needs.”  
Draco nodded, “Yeah, no problem, have a goodnight.”  
Harry smiled, slid his hand into the fine strands of Draco hair, and cast one last glance at Terry before exiting the room.  
“That’s odd.”  
“What is?” Draco asked.  
“The fact that he’s even talking to you, usually he doesn’t notice anyone besides his little duo of friends.”  
Draco shrugged, secretly thrilled at the thought of it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
Terry stopped his frantic pace of folding his clothes into his wardrobe, and stared straight out the moonlit window. “Of course, you wouldn’t.” He murmured.  
Draco frowned and looked out the window as well, but, when he looked past the frosted windows, Draco saw nothing but a strip of inky blackness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first fanfic, and I'm not very good at writing in general, but I like to write, so if anyones reading this, thanks. :)  
> And I plan for the story to go up to seventh year, and some of the characters may seem a little out of character, but it won't be anything drastic in the end.

At the Moors, Draco would sit in a chair and stare mindlessly at the crashing waves below his window. His hands would idly turn a book in his hands, rub the tip of a quill aimlessly, his eyes lost in thought as he held the memories of a past that could not be changed.  
When he first arrived at the Moors, when he was eight, and his only parents were locked in the cells of Azkaban, he spent nearly almost every day and hour sitting there, thinking, and dreaming of the many ways that he could have fixed it.   
Maybe, if he had stepped out of the wardrobe and demanded they listen and see his parent’s innocence, then they could have been let free.  
It was foolish.  
This new dream, or thought he had, played over in a time loop in his head until it grew so worn out with memory that it got replaced with dull musings and pointless wanderings.  
It took about a year before he even stepped out of the old Victorian house.  
It took a lot longer for his mother’s cries to stop following him to bed at night.

 

****

 

Sometimes, Draco still wonders if he could have changed the future into something more…fitting. At least, for himself.   
For, if you had asked Draco five years ago, the answer would have been infinitely different then to what it is now.  
Firstly, he would have wanted to be in Slytherin.  
Draco had grown up with stories from his mother and father and how they had met, underneath the tall arches in the summer heat, looking up to a winter’s sky, watching the first snowfall with clasped hands, piecing their lives together in moments and days at Hogwarts until they married only years after.  
And Draco had wanted that, had wanted to find someone to spend his time with, stay with him through all the adventures they could go through together.  
He wanted to have the friend he would meet, and the places he would go happen like theirs had.  
Draco used to dream of graduating in silver and green.  
Secondly, his father wouldn’t be in jail for the rest of his years, and Draco wouldn’t have to wait until he was fourteen to see his mother again.   
On parole.  
Thirdly, he never would have seen a terrifying body that claimed to be the power of the wizarding world speak in such a frightening way that it still turned his palms sweaty and his body cold.  
Fourthly, he wouldn’t have had to go and live with his Aunt in her creaky old house on the Moors.   
Granted, the view was scenic, but as an eight-year-old who had just witnessed a wizard that was supposed to be dead rush through him in smoke, and his father drop an old diary in the hands of a Weasley brother get shipped off to prison, his behavior could be explainable.   
Then, when the task was accomplished and was led back to Lucius Malfoy, Draco had cried for nights.   
His father was imprisoned for working on the wrong side of the light, and well, his counter pleas didn’t sound that convincing.  
And add insult to losing his father, he also lost his mother.   
Who had merely been in the same room as Draco’s father when they came.   
Draco had watched from the wardrobe of his father’s study as men and women in black and red stormed the manor as a wisp of a creature devoured their home, the screams of innocents vanishing in the flip of a day.   
They aurous wrapped gold bands around his parent’s hands and Draco watched from the wardrobe as they were hurled away, his mother frantically calling his name and shouting that she had a son. She had a son. She had a son.  
Fifthly.  
It was useless to think about it now.  
Sixthly, Draco didn’t know if a future with his parents guiding him could have been all that much better.  
And seventhly, Draco hated the parts of him that was relieved as his father got locked away.

 

****

 

Frankly, Draco was terrified to see Harry again, and so, had been subtly avoiding him since breakfast.   
Subtle is a strong word, in this case.  
Draco was flailing, and it was sad, really, because his day had been off to an okay start.  
Draco had managed breakfast with Pansy well, which was mostly because he had arrived so early that by the time she sat down next to him, he only had to manage a few words about the weather, his Aunt, and the classes he would be taking before he stood up and bolted straight into Harry.  
He then stuttered out an equally awkward good morning, did this weird side step, shuffle thing, and almost dropped his ruck sack as he avoided all eye contact and bolted.  
He hid out in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes, and walked slowly to the classroom he thought to be History of Magic, which turned out to be the fifth years Defense class.   
Unfortunately, Fred and George were there and ribbed him for it, heckling loudly and gathering laughter from the other students. When Draco left, it was with a beet red face, and Professor Lupin pointing him down a flight of stairs.  
He entered History of magic late, evaded Harrys probing gaze, and took a seat next to Terry Boot, who wasn’t all that bad once you got past his pompous attitude. He talked a lot, sure, but he was smart and the more he talked the less Draco had to.  
The second class of the day was Transfiguration, and it was a subject Draco had never been that good at, so when he arrived just before the bell he was surprised to see two seats open, one of which was beside Harry, and the other, once again, by Terry.  
Draco pretended not to notice Harry waving him over and slid into the seat next to Terry.  
He kept his eyes trained to his worksheet, and Terry even helped him fill in the correct answers, listening to his classmate’s titter as he answered the question wrong.  
Draco scowled for the rest of that hour.  
He didn’t like being reminded of his weaknesses.   
The third class of the day was Care of Magical creatures, and his luck was running downhill.  
For, as he made his way down the sloping lawn, he heard a shout behind him, and Draco thought it could have easily been Drew or Marco, or something else, so he kept walking.   
Draco wasn’t an uncommon name.  
Personally, Draco didn’t want his excitement for this class to go when the shrieking girl behind him caught up.  
“Draco!”  
Groaning, Draco walked faster and kept his head down. He was almost to the clearing, just a few more feet and then maybe he could blend into the shrubbery or other students with their faces like camouflage.   
He could taint brown and green on his face like the words they conversed, and the mouths they opened to send out words of nonsense.  
Pointless drivel that Draco despised to take a part of.  
“Draco, hey, wait up!”  
Inwardly, he was screaming, outwardly, he sighed heavily before coming to a stop, dejecting himself to his own prison sentence.   
“Hey, I’ve been trying to catch you all day.” Hermione huffed, grabbing his arm and turning his body to face her. “But you’ve always been sitting with someone else or darting down a different corridor.”  
Draco shook off her hand, and looked suspiciously behind her for the ginger and Harry.   
“Yeah,” he drawled.  
Hermione pursed her lips. “Well, come on, I’ll introduce you to Hagrid, he’s a close friend of ours.”  
Like it was some secret he should be happy to know, and yet, Draco’s interest was piqued, and he closed his mouth twice so he wouldn’t ask for more.  
They walked in silence, and it was nice, and when she introduced him to Hagrid, he smiled, and said that this was the class he was looking forward to the most.   
Hagrid seemed excited about an eager student, and rushed off to prepare his lesson.   
Draco smiled, Hermione’s cool aloofness seeming to dissipate as she watched.  
“Harry’s actually been looking for you.” Hermione said, side eyeing him.  
“Hm, yeah. Well, Terry wanted me to sit next to him.” Draco avoided her gaze, and swept his eyes across the clearing. It was about the side of the school’s Quidditch pitch and had a paddock further down by the forbidden forest.   
There was a thatched hut near a vegetable garden, and pumpkins already the size of Draco’s head.   
It looked well-worn in and rustic and Draco longed to be left alone. He also wanted to tell her that his nerves frayed when he thought of talking to Harry, but, he didn’t think she’d be sympathetic to his plight.  
“Really? He is quite smart, always trying to-.”  
“Hermione, don’t tell me you’re already going off about Boot and your academic battle this early in the morning. It’s too early in the day, or any day, really.” Ron shook his head, and nodded at Draco. “Hey.”  
“Hello.”   
Draco tilted his head up to the sky, and ignored their little argument, it was a wonderful blue, with a bright orb of white-yellow and Draco wanted to engulf himself within it and feel the way it must feel to be a perfect day.   
He imagined it’d feel heavenly.  
Affronted, Hermione drew herself upright. “It’s not a battle. And he only ever passed me once , and that was simply a fluke,” she sniffed.  
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Ron muttered under his breath.  
Hermione’s face had a determined edge to it, fury writ over her eyesight. She snapped out of it quickly, hurriedly glancing behind Ron’s shoulder. “Where’s Harry?”   
“Oh, he’s running late, said he had to talk to McGonagall about something.” Shrugging, he narrowed his eyes to the other side of the class, where the Slytherins congregated.  
Hermione frowned.   
Pansy smiled, and Draco looked down at Ron and Hermione’s books, and paused. Their spines and leather bound pages shook grumpily in shoelaces and an old belt.  
Reaching forward, Draco pulled the belt that strapped Ron’s together and stroked the spine, the book instantly soothing to a rumble. “Hey, you got it to stop biting.” he exclaimed gleefully. “Yeah, you just have to stroke it.”  
Hermione looked down at hers, trailing her own fingers down the cover. “No, you have to stroke the spine, see.” Draco stepped forward and knocked her hand away, his head bent over hers as he stroked the rough leather.  
“Draco?”   
Startled, Draco jumped and knocked his head against Hermione’s, emitting a harsh thump and a clutch of hands to their heads. What was Hermione’s head made of? A ton of bricks.  
“Sorry, didn’t mean that.” Draco gritted out through the pain, noise bouncing off his eardrums.   
“It’s alright.” Hermione said, rubbing the top of her scalp, her curly hair growing in magnitude.  
Draco thought she might want to stop before she made it worse.  
“What are you doing?” Harry asked, tightly.  
“What?” Draco stared blankly at Harry as the echoing pain finally began to recede, trying to piece together what Harry was asking for.   
Maybe he had lost more brain cells then a head thump warranted.   
“With her book, you were touching it, what were you doing?”   
Draco stared at Harry and watched as his silence only made the green behind his glasses turn stormy and more irritated. His brow rose, and he shoved a hand through his hair.   
Draco bit his top lip, releasing it as he opened his mouth.  
“I was showing her how to open it.”  
Harry pouted. “It doesn’t open.”   
“No, it does.” Draco rushed to reassure. “Here, let me show you.”  
Harry stared at Draco’s outstretched hand, then to his face, and pulled a thrashing book from his bag.   
Stepping forward, Harry entered his space the same way Draco had occupied Hermione’s.  
When he stopped, a foot separated them, and Draco grew aware of the difference between the two.   
For one, Harry was taller than him by a few inches, and his scent was unlike Hermione’s flowery perfume. He smelled as he had last night; clean linen and fresh soap.   
It was a unique smell, and Draco wanted to know how he managed to smell like summer.  
Hermione also didn’t make Draco’s heart beat faster until his head grew woozy with it.  
And when Draco let his pale fingers run down the side of his book, Hermione didn’t inch closer as Harry had.   
Draco had to resist the urge to move closer as well, and…do what? Draco didn’t know, all he knew was that he wanted to separate the distance and hold on, remaining as close as possible.  
Draco stepped back, clearing his throat.  
“That’s it, really.” His voice sounded croaky, and Harry grinned down at him.  
“Thanks.” He unbuckled his now useless belt, and stuffed it in his bag. “I was trying to talk to you earlier, you know.” He spoke to his bag, his face bent away.  
Guilt tore up a hole in Draco’s body, and he remembered his earlier resolve to stay as far as he could from Harry.  
It was a midnight promise he made long after Theodore closed his bed curtain’s and Terry’s snores filled the room. Draco had lain awake and felt the cool brush of his mother’s hand and thought of all he could lose.  
He vowed then to keep his distance.  
He didn’t want Harry near him, to realize that the interest that kept him coming back was a crappy front; an imposter painting.   
He did not want to see the look on his face when it happened, and he did not want to be left along again.  
But, his resolve to stay away seemed like some far-off promise that came about in the night-time hours.   
Not in the bathroom, as a pale boy clutched his fists to the sinks edge and tried to shut out their shouts, his face a blur, and streaks of salt water down his face.  
Draco blinked away the image. “I’m sorry.”  
And he was.   
“I was just distracted.” The lie slipped off his tongue, and it didn’t feel right, lying to Harry, but these words were still part of a truth.  
Hagrid stepped into the little clearing, the class quieted down in disjointed waves, all except for a boy with dark wavy hair, and Pansy, who whispered not so quietly to one another. Draco felt his own face heat up over their rudeness, swallowing roughly.  
“It’s ok.” Harry said quietly, his head bent.  
Draco’s head whipped around, and he watched as Harry’s gaze widened at Hagrid’s whistle, a swooshing rush of wind lifting his robes.  
Draco became immersed within the way his green eyes lit up, gold glasses glinting off the high sun, and lips bright pink.  
He didn’t notice a flock of beasts swooping down around them, startling the class into shocked silence and a few petrified screams. One girl, with dark hair and wide eyes flew behind the Neville boy in fright.  
Draco tore his gaze from Harry, and landed on four beasts of countenance.   
They were beautiful.   
Strong and brilliant and Draco itched to step closer to the winged beasts in front of him.  
There were five, with bodies the likes of a horse and wings of gods and a face of an eagle, and Draco wanted to get closer and touch their silky coats. Especially the one with chestnut hair, hair gleaming high in the afternoon sun.   
There were four others, two dappled with white and brown spots, one black, and the smallest a stormy grey color.  
“Oh, no.” Ron moaned.  
“Shut up.” Hermione hissed.  
“This can’t end well.” Ron stated. “It just won’t.”  
Hagrid started to speak, boastfully showing off the hippogriffs and Draco tuned him out, already well verse in their natural habitat and oddities.   
“It’s going to kill me if I get to close, no, you go.”  
Ron pushed Harry, and stumbled into Draco.   
“Will you stop it.” Draco demanded, letting his gaze leave the majestic creatures.  
“Don’t you see those things?” Ron asked incredulously. “Look!”  
Draco looked.  
“They’re likely to take my eye out, there’s no way I’m going to get that close.”  
“Ron, be quiet, Hagrid’s looking.” Harry hit him roughly.  
Draco frowned. “They wouldn’t, they’re very peaceful creatures, they’ll only hurt you if you insult them.” Draco said, offended.  
“Wait, how do you know this?” Harry asked, turning from his dispute with Ron.  
Draco shrugged. “I like animals.”  
“Yeah, but, animals are like a cat or an owl, that is a forbidden forest type of animal.”  
“Do you think he would let us go into the forest?” Draco asked curiously, his day turning out far better than the first half.  
“You want to go into the forest, willingly?”  
“Well, if he’ll let me.” Draco said, his hand drifting in Hagrid’s direction. “Maybe he wouldn’t mind showing me the different creatures.”  
Harry stared from Draco’s mystified expression to Hagrid and back again.  
“I know Hagrid.”  
Hermione snorted, “So do we.”   
Harry ignored her.   
“We’re like really close, and I could probably get him to show you his…other animals. In the forest.” He clarified.  
“Oh, god.” Hermione started to laugh, Draco peeked at her, wondering if she was subject to fits of laughter at odd times.  
It made him feel better about his sanity.  
Then Harry’s declaration came to him, the thought of entering the forbidden forest excited him, and the idea of being close with animals again comforted him, as he thought he had left that part of his life on the Moors.   
“That’d be great.” Draco breathed out, his insides churning with the prospect of what Harry offered.  
The feeling bubbled up like foam, his hands twitched, and he wanted it now and it hurt and he had to tamper the feeling down, reminding himself of patience.   
“I’m not good with talking to new people.” Draco carried on, his voice leaving him in an exhale. “Do you think you could talk to him after class for me?” He tapped Harry’s arm.  
“Yeah, definitely.” Harry said. “And Hagrid would love to talk with someone that actually cares about this type of stuff.” He gestured to Hagrid gesticulating widely, urging a frightened Neville forward to kneel before the smallest hippogriff.  
“That’d be awesome.”   
And just like that, with one sentence, and one moment, Draco felt his earlier misgivings of Harry dissipate in the gentle breeze.   
The forest knew this too, as their branches shifted, the air turning thicker and Draco was glad for the first time in a long while that someone wanted to talk to him, and that he wanted to talk back.  
Because for a little while, or a long time, stringing words together to speak back to someone had been hard.   
Draco looked at Harry, at his lanky form and black robes opened to blue jeans and a Hogwarts tie. He looked and looked and looked as his dark hair whistled softly with the day.  
Draco has seen Greek sculptures and knew what attractive lines pulled across flesh looked like; Harry’s face was carved of the same marble and bronze, beautifully writ across dark skin.   
Above all physical attributes, a light radiated from the pores of Harry’s skin and his kindness was woven through his body, and Draco wondered how that came to be. How the savior of the wizarding world turned out to be so humble and benevolent.

 

****

 

“I’m going to get closer.” Draco stepped forward past boys and girls trying to blend into the open air.  
“I’ll come with you.”   
Draco nodded, and walked measuredly up to one of the beasts, the one with chestnut hair, and stopped in front of it.  
“Draco, don’t touch it.” Pansy shrieked, her figure coming out of nowhere.  
Draco bowed, and looked up to see if the hippogriff would reciprocate. Moments passed, and Draco’s neck began to ache and the seconds felt sodden down and hard as he awaited the approval of another.  
Finally, the beast’s front legs sunk down to earth.   
“See ere’, Draco’s got Helena to bow fer him. See ere’ class! Draco’s gone and done it.” Hagrid beamed. And Harry stepped forward to bow in front of the stormy grey one. “Ah yes, Harry ere’ is getting’ it too.”  
Overjoyed at Harry’s own attempt to try, Draco began to move forward when a small hand shot out to stop him. “Draco, what are you doing! That things going to kill you!”   
Draco rolled his eyes, prying her hand off. “No, it isn’t, your overreacting, Pansy. They’re nice creatures, you only have to be nice to them.”  
His hippogriff waited patiently, pawing the earth.  
“Come on, Pansy. Leave the little boy alone.” Theodore goaded from the other side of the paddock, his body casually leaning against the wood and taking no care to pay attention to the lesson.  
Draco scowled.  
Pansy shook her head furiously, her dark hair whipping her face. “I’m not going anywhere near those things.”  
Draco lifted his eyes up. “Do you want me to show you what to do?”  
He hoped she didn’t.   
“It’s pretty easy, don’t know why you have to show her how to do it.” Harry spoke up, leading his hippogriff closer.   
Pansy stepped back, and looked at Draco. “No, no, that’s fine,” she said. “I think I’ll just watch from over here.” She pointed behind her shoulder, rapidly moving to the side of the paddock where there were lingering Slytherins and no hippogriffs.  
Draco shrugged. It was no trouble to him.  
Theodore laughed loudly over the other students, mimicking their bows, and adding a feminine flourish to what was real, pulling up imaginary folds of a dress, and batting his eyes.   
It looked like he was imitating one Gryffindor in particular, Draco shook his head at the spectacle, wondering how Harry kept his patience with them.   
Stepping closer to his waiting hippogriff, he pet his pretty hair and rubbed the feathers behind his ears affectionately, bringing his mind back to a melancholic state.   
Soothingly, the breeze picked up and Draco closed his eyes softly to the sun high above the sky. The air smelled heavenly, sweet and like freshly cut grass.   
Wind whistled through his ears, and Draco breathed deeper, inhaling the embodiment of this day, nostalgia cutting through like quick stabs, and he could almost hear laughter and the call of waddling peacocks.  
Draco’s lips curled up softly and behind his closed lids, he saw the outline of his mother’s face, distorted, her long hair shimmering brightly in memories.  
“How come you like animals so much?”   
Draco opened his eyes, interrupted, and Harry was standing next to him, Buckbeak grazing peacefully behind them, his tanned fingers smoothing down Helena’s flank.  
Draco jumped through the void, his voice harsh from the telling of stories untold. “It was the only thing to do, at my Aunt’s house.”  
Harry scratched the side of his face, puzzled. “Why, were there no houses nearby?”  
“Sort of.” Draco relented. “But, she lives by herself, and it’s on the countryside, and the closest house was a church and if you kept walking, you’d find a village, but, there weren’t a lot of people who lived there.”  
Harry pondered this, a furrow etched between his brow. “Sounds lonely.”  
“It wasn’t that bad.” Draco scratched the hippogriffs neck, his hand idly tracing the muscle beneath. “Terry said that you lived with your Aunt and Uncle?” He asked it with uncertainty, unsure of how deep he could go.  
Harry’s hand stilled on the hippogriff. “Yeah.”  
Draco hesitated, stepping closer. “Do you like them?”  
Harry squinted. “They’re not that nice, but they were the only living family I had left, so… I grew up with them.” He lifted his shoulders. “It wasn’t that bad.” His words emulating what Draco’s had earlier.  
Draco frowned, debating on what he was about to say. If it would even be worth it, or if it was too soon to talk about anything besides the weather and Quidditch.   
But yesterday didn’t feel like mere hours or a day but seconds and minutes stitched into an endless time of his presence.  
And the crux of it all was that Draco had been ignoring Harry because of silly reasons.  
Like the way, he made his heart beat quicker, or the way he made his senses turn to mush, and his face heat from just a look.   
But above all else, Draco had been afraid of what would happen when Harry realized that he was boring or cruel or someone he didn’t actually want to seek out.  
It still scared him to think about, but now that he was here and Harry was there and they’re hands lay so close to one another, Draco wanted to be friends with him with a desperation that surmounted all previous thoughts, it burned so fiercely in him that Draco vowed to keep it, he would give his it all and not shrink away from the thought of what could be.  
People left for things that couldn’t be controlled, and it would be useless to live life that way, one foot in and the other out, ready for the drop of a hat and Draco didn’t want to exist in the murky Underworld of uncertainty.  
He would dive in, head first, fingertips and body and kicking feet and there wouldn’t be any other way.  
Draco licked his lips. “On the Moors, where I lived with my aunt, there was a Magical Creatures sanctuary about a mile’s walk away, and there was an old lady that ran it, and she would let me help her take care of them when I could, or when Aunt Ellen was gone, which was often. So, I was there a lot, and there weren’t that many animals usually, and most of the time there was only Owls or wild cats.” He stared at Helena’s glossy coat. “But she had a paddock in the back that housed Hippogriffs, and she let me ride them in the evening, and train them in the daytime. And when I first moved from the manor, it was the only part of the Moors I liked.” Draco said softly, his secret seeping out to strike.  
Harry brushed Helena harder as Draco’s voice grew quieter, smoothing down an already impeccable coat. “It sounds peaceful.”   
Draco hummed his agreement. “It was, you’d like it, could play Quidditch all you want in the back fields.” Ruefully, one corner of his mouth kicked up, smiling at the thought.   
Harry stilled, and quirked his head to look down at Draco. “We could play Quidditch, I could teach you.” he added.   
Draco started to nod, his face moving all its own.  
“Alrigh’ class, fer’ homework, I want a page on the diet of a hippogriff and their natural habitat.” Hagrid’s loud voice boomed, and Draco snapped out of his daze, forgetting time as the past hour swooshed in, leaving him in a rush. “And don’t forget ter’ stroke the spine of yer’ book.” Hagrid sheepishly added, looking at some of the more unimpressed students.  
Theodore Nott was already halfway to the castle.  
Harry straightened. “I’ll be right back.”   
Draco nodded absently, and watched as Harry walked over to Hagrid, launching into a discussion immediately. He felt drained as he patted his hippogriff in parting, hazily going to pick up his schoolbag.   
Just as he was slinging the two straps on, Hermione came up to him, followed closely by Ron who was talking about one of the dappled grey hippogriffs named Weatherones, and how they weren’t so bad after all.  
Draco smirked as he continued to talk, tuning out Hermione when she began to talk about the Transfiguration homework due next week.  
He sighed tiredly at the thought of it. “I’ve never been very good at it, and Aunt Ellen never liked the subject, so she kind of neglected that area of study.” Draco spoke up.  
“I could help you with it.” Hermione gasped. “Really, you should have been learning every subject equally.”  
As if it was a major affront to humankind.   
Draco paused.  
On second thought.  
“You’d really tutor me?”  
“Yeah, I mean, I have to look over Harry’s and Ron’s essays all the time. It’d be no problem.”  
“Hey, I’m not bad at Transfigurations.” Harry whined, meandering over, and lazily tugging on the ends of his hair.  
“Well, no, but, I still look over your essays, don’t I?”  
Harry shrugged. “I’m not bad at Transfigurations,” he said with certainty.  
Turning to Draco, he leaned down to whisper in a conspirator’s voice, his cool breath hitting his heated cheeks. “She’s just jealous I’m better at Defense then her.”  
Hermione drew herself up tightly. “That’s not true! And anyways, I’m better at the theory of it then you,” she said hotly.  
“And these two are jealous of me because I manage to get by with no studying every time.” Ron cocked his brow, and waggled his eyebrows.  
Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m sure that’s it,” she muttered.   
Ron looked insulted, and they started to bicker as Harry picked up his bag, beginning the slow trek up to the castle’s doors.  
“I talked to Hagrid, and he said you could come by on Tuesday or Thursday nights, when your free,” Harry said. “That’s when he goes to the forbidden forest.”   
Draco hesitated, and tugged on his bottom lip.  
“If you still want to help him, that is.” Harry added.  
Draco shook his head, annoyed at his own cowardice. “No, I still do, I want to.”   
“Good.” Harry snaked a hand around his shoulder, and tugged him closer. Draco told himself to breathe., evening his breaths out in ones and twos like his Aunt had taught him. “I’m starving, I hope there’s treacle for lunch.”  
“I hope there’s lemon pies.” Draco said hopefully.  
And Draco didn’t know how to talk to people who might be your friend, but it seemed like the right thing to say when Harry smiled a small smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last days of Draco's third year.

Time changed.   
It was different to the years he spent on the Moors, it moved slowly, churned like old forgotten memories until one day turned into the next and the next turned into tomorrow and yesterdays and todays became a whirl of endless time.  
And when the last days of summer turned to Fall and the leaves whistled off the trees and snow crunched underfoot, Draco felt himself relax further into the comfort of being.  
He had friends, ones that he liked, he was at Hogwarts, he was doing well in classes, there were people that liked him, and there were people that didn’t.  
And when he closed his curtains at night, he awoke to a day that wasn’t dull and pointless.  
Terry Boot helped him with his homework, dutifully crossing out wrong answers and sounding out the right ones.   
Ron played chess with him when he grew tired of his thoughts and blank stares.   
Hermione still taught him Transfiguration on the days she wasn’t busy, which weren’t that many, as most days she was piled high with books stacked around her, an impenetrable fortress meant to avoid.  
Theodore Nott called him a traitor, and Pansy Parkinson was strangely quiet on that front, no longer trying to become his friend anymore and distancing herself from him to short waves and nods.  
The tide which the Slytherins changed affected him only slightly, Draco just burrowed his nose further in a book, and pretended not to hear the curses and threats they hurtled.   
Neville Longbottom was his partner in Potions, which, was…a horrible choice on Draco’s part.  
The Weasley twins didn’t stare and wait for a misfortunate event to happen from his hands.  
The girl Wesley still glared, but Draco was fine with that.   
She seemed the lesser of the two evils.  
The Patil twins said he had nice hair, and pet it softly in Divination, brushing out the tangles that fell below his chin.  
Draco wondered if they could tell their compliments did nothing for him like they should, and it was the reason they were so comfortable to begin with.  
He feared that they might.  
Draco avoided them outside of that class.  
Harry was a person he sought out, their friendship coming about like the tide, slowly and easily, drifting over sand. It melded and worked and Draco found it odd that there was a time before Harry and a time before Hogwarts.  
His first year at Hogwarts almost made him forget about his parents, and it almost made him forget her laugh, and the way she smiled softly as she touched his cheek, her fingers trailing to rest on his shoulders.  
He didn’t forget that, and that was ok because for once, Draco was happy he was not alone.

Days turned to weeks which turned to more days and months and before Draco was even fully aware of it, Spring was here and the summer months of his youth were fast approaching.  
He lay out on sun warmed grass and listened to Terry Boot’s soft cadence worry about the firth question on page eight of their exam.   
It was Transfiguration, Draco was still not sure if he had passed, and at this moment, with the breeze winding down and the bright blue of a clear sky, Draco could not be bothered.  
He had rid himself of his cloak and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, and crossed his bare ankles, rolling one against the other.  
Earlier, Draco had pulled his pants up to his calves to test the water, only to jump back in fright when he saw huge marble eyes staring back at him. Grey and pearly, Draco had hastily made his way back over to Terry’s heap of textbooks and refused to move any closer.  
After they sat with their backs crooked, and an ache twanged in his neck, Draco convinced Terry to lay out his cloak and enjoy the last day of their finals, reminiscing about their classes and what Terry would be doing for the summer.  
Draco listened, dutifully nodding, slightly concerned of his grades, and weary of his Transfiguration’s exam.   
He blocked it from his mind, and let himself daydream about dark hair and red uniforms.  
Another person flit through his brain, a man with craggy hair.  
Loud cackles of laughter echoed out across the courtyard, a girl clapped gleefully and Draco slowly opened his eyes.   
Drawing himself up to his elbows, he followed the noise to a group of girls surrounding a tall boy balanced on his hands.   
His shirt fell past his jeans and revealed his stomach, dark golden skin to be admired, taut over a lithe frame and Draco flicked his gaze away and back, sliding past the pretty girls and pretty people.  
Harry walked a few more paces upside down before jumping up and flipping backwards, drawing astonished gasps and cheers as he spun in a circle to sweep his hands across theirs.  
Ron clapped him on the back as he bowed to his gathered crowd, and Draco rolled his eyes, refusing to acknowledge his presence before he acknowledged his.  
“Do you think Hermione would want to compare notes?”  
“Probably not.” Draco muttered. “She might cut you if you get a different answer.”  
Terry frowned and stared at the ground. “Well…do you want to?”  
Draco furrowed his brow, and asked in incredulity, “What do you think we were doing for the past hour?”   
Terry looked at him in confusion. “You were actually listening?”  
“Merlin.” Draco rolled onto his stomach, ignoring Terry once more.  
Terry swatted him on his back and Draco clenched his jaw, lifting his head long enough to grab one of his textbooks and throw it towards the lake.  
“What the-? That was my favorite!” Terry screeched, his face positively horrified. Draco shrugged and put his head back on his crossed arms, missing Terry’s blank stare. He could care less if one of the books his mother lovingly gifted him got a little wet.  
Draco should have known, but then, Draco was too occupied with other thoughts as Terry pounced on him and began rubbing his hair furiously, pushing his shoulders to the ground.  
“Get of me, you prick!” Draco bucked upwards, squirming beneath his hold and trying to gasp for air, his face shoved into his thick cloak.  
“Go get my book out of the lake then!”  
“No, get off, help, help.” Draco shrieked, giggling as Terry’s fingers crawled against his sides. “Stop it, stop! It hurts.” Squealing, he almost got onto his side before he was trapped again, his lungs aching and face burning.  
Draco vaguely wondered what Terry was feeding himself for breakfast, the shape of his thighs too muscular and arms like weighted guns that Draco felt sweat begin to trail his skin.  
The beating sun now seemed almost unbearable with the heavy weight, and the pounding of his ears thrummed obnoxiously and Draco opened his mouth to admit defeat or something of lesser value as the air left him before the weight was released and he was rolling onto his back, his face flushed in confusion and exertion.   
Terry was now sitting, or well, in a heap on the ground a couple feet away furiously rubbing the back of his head.  
Draco gulped in a big breath, and turned his gaze to stare up at Harry, face carefully kept blank.  
“My hero.” Draco said sarcastically.   
Something hard flashed across Harry’s face, before disappearing like the flickering sun, hard and too quick to catch.  
Draco simply lay there, his hands now contently resting on his stomach, attempting to give the picture of nonchalance. Sometimes, Draco wondered if it was what people saw; his unaffected demeanor, or, if they saw a boy so pathetically scared that they never mentioned it.  
“You were screaming for help.”  
“Rhetorically.”  
Harry ground his teeth together. “That doesn’t even make sense.”  
Draco pouted up at him. “Yes, it does.” Deciding to give him a little, he poked his bare toe to Harry’s booted feet, gently pushing him away.   
Harry looked at the point of contact, then at Terry, who was now gathering his textbooks.  
Stretching out his neck, Draco peered through half lidded eyes, the sun bright, and picked up one of the texts Terry forget, and tossed it to him as he cursed his way to the lake.  
“You’ve been a brat.”  
Draco lifted his arms above his head and yawned, refusing to relent and talk.  
The sun hit him this side of yesterday, and Draco thought of the week before, of an ugly rat that turned into a worse person from within, a teacher who was a werewolf and a scruffy man that turned out to be Harry’s godfather.   
An escape of freedom, and the rat turned into a traitor and it was only through a stroke of luck or favoritism that Hermione pulled out a shimmering necklace from her shirt, and wrapped it around her and Harry’s neck, disappearing within time while Draco was still recovering from the hex Professor Lupin had meant to disarm with on that stupid rat.  
Ron lay broken next to him, and Draco hadn’t been able to make the words come out of his brain in the right order before they were rapidly moving to an adventure Draco was bitterly left out of.  
In the end, they only managed to save a man’s life, not his free will, and Draco wondered if that was any better than never having met.  
Draco supposed many people would think that death was the worse option.  
Draco wasn’t so sure.  
Afterwards, Harry only talked of Sirius and how he was great, how he had a Grandfather and someone that knew his parents and Draco wanted to be happy for him and he didn’t want to be nasty, but, it was just hard.  
Draco was selfish, and he still felt slighted from Harry snapping at him when he snapped at Ginevra Weasley for staring too long. In all actuality, she had been staring at Harry, and that had just set him off for reasons he didn’t want to look at, and so, he had sneered and made her cry and had almost come close to the patented Malfoy cruelty before Harry told him off and told him to shove off.   
It hurt, and Draco knew he was in the wrong.  
Draco knew that, but, it was difficult.  
For, he wanted to always be right and always be paid attention to, and when it came to Harry that had usually been the case, but…lately, not so much.  
And it made Draco angry, and it made him lash out at people and at the rate he was going, Terry would become his only friend.   
So, laying against the grass, Draco wasn’t sure how he felt, at a battle with two parts of himself. He wanted to mope longer, yet, the words of forgiveness were on his tongue but couldn’t be pushed past his lips to tell, and, as a result, Draco had been in a stagnate with Harry, and Ron, and even Hermione who was getting fed up with his temper.  
“How did your exams go then?”   
Draco rolled his head back and avoided all eye contact. “Terry helped me study, so, I assume I will have done great.”   
Harry grit his teeth, and his nostrils flared. “Oh, so, is that where you’ve been all this time? Studying with Boot?”  
“That’s what I just said.”   
Harry let out a disbelieving laugh. “Alright, yeah.” He ran a hand through his hair, and angrily gripped the ends. “I just don’t understand why your acting this way.”   
Draco shrugged, and felt a niggle of doubt erupt in his belly.  
“You’re not exactly the best person to study with, and Terry is, it was nothing personal.” Draco sniffed, wondering if he would leave now.  
“That’s never stopped you from studying with us before.”  
“I wasn’t failing Transfigurations before.” Draco muttered. “And it’s not like all of us can be favored by their head of house and have a guaranteed pass.”  
“You know that’s not true.” Harry fired back.  
Draco was not in the mood to argue over this particular topic, after all, Draco was right, and he would just get angrier if Harry didn’t see that he was right.  
“Sure.” He said, sarcasm dripping.  
Harry made a noise that sounded like a laugh and a groan and sunk down to his knees. Draco kicked his knee out and tried to shove him away, attempting to gain some more of the distance he had before.  
“Stop.” Harry demanded. He placed a hand on Draco’s leg and shoved it back, sprawling half on top of Draco as he tried to lay next to him. His back hit the ground, and Harry was slight and wasn’t that much taller than Draco, but, the wind got knocked out of him as Harry manhandled him into staying, their heads at an equal level and Draco closed his eyes, letting it happen and hating himself for liking the heat of the sun and the warmth of his hands too much.  
“I don’t like it when you ignore me.”  
Draco swallowed, picking up the first sentence he could. “I don’t like it when you pick Ginevra over me.”  
Harry jerked beside him, and Draco could tell that he was looking at him from the side.   
Draco was always hyperaware of almost everything he did.   
“What are you-? Are you talking about what happened weeks ago? Are you serious, this is why you haven’t been talking to me, because I told you to stop being mean to Ron’s little sister?”  
Draco’s cheeks heated and he felt ridiculous, shame rushing into him but it still didn’t stop the anger from returning.  
“Yes.”  
Draco felt Harry turn his head back to look at him, and Draco stared resolutely up at the red hot sun.  
“You’re unbelievable.” Harry breathed out, and got up on his elbows. “And a brat, did I tell you that? I’ve been racking my brain for weeks trying to think of what I did to upset you, but all along it was because I didn’t let you yell at Ginevra-, Ginny!?”  
Draco was annoyed at himself already, he didn’t need someone else pointing out the flaws in his hurt.  
“Just leave me alone.” He muttered. His cheeks blossomed red and for some reason that he already knew, the dismissal Harry gave him hurt too deeply.   
“No.” Harry prodded Draco in the stomach, and Draco squirmed away from the touch, rolling onto his stomach and balancing himself on his forearms.  
He stared ahead, looked at the whomping willow and shook his head. “Maybe we’re just growing apart, did you ever think of that?” Draco began to talk, hating the words spoken, and hoping Harry would not expect them. “I mean, not to be a cliché, but you’re a Gryffindor and I’m a Slytherin, those two houses have been at a feud with each other since Salazar himself was here.”   
Harry sat up abruptly, crossing his legs and leaning into Draco’s space. “Why does it matter what house your in? It never has before.”  
Draco breathed out through his nose. “Well, maybe it should.” Staring at the whomping willow, it looked different now that he knew the history it held and the people it saw, some bad and some good and some that had barely been there at all.  
Harry stared down at him with the same intensity he used when saving people; his eyes too bright, like a feverish dream and his black hair too messy as he moved in either further.   
“It shouldn’t and it doesn’t.” Harry insisted. “It doesn’t,” he repeated when Draco made no sound, his face furrowed. “Draco, come on, don’t be this way.” He pleaded.  
Draco chewed the insides of his cheek and wondered if it would be better to cut ties now, so, when the years came and people began to pair off, it wouldn’t hurt so bad. Then, he thought that maybe it would hurt worse not to have him at all.  
Why should it matter that he doesn’t have all of Harry when he could have some of him?  
And yes, it would not be the way he would want him, but, it would be something.   
Something Draco could have, and for all Draco knew, this was just a passing phase, like when he was eight and wanted to open ballet classes for Trolls. It was all possible.  
“I’m sorry, really, I am.”  
Draco jolted, immediately scrambling to sit up. Harry looked at him worriedly as Draco wondered what he was on about.   
“What are you sorry for?” Draco frowned.  
“For telling you to stop yelling at Ginny.”  
Draco lifted his eyes to the sky and sighed. “I was wrong.” Draco bit out.  
“What? Wasn’t that why you were mad at me to begin with?”  
“No.” Draco responded. Scrunching up his nose, he amended himself. “Well, I mean, yes, but, I… don’t know. Like, it was more than that.”  
“What was it, please tell me.” The inside of Harry’s knees touched Draco’s bent ones, and Draco swallowed. “That night, when you went to save…you know.” Draco looked around and leaned forward to whisper his name in Harry’s ear. “Hermione told me he didn’t approve that you were friends with, well, a Malfoy. Said that the Blacks were never very trustworthy people and she said more, but, the point is,” Draco stressed, “If you don’t want to be my friend because of what he said, I won’t be upset. I would understand.”  
Harry sat with his mouth open, gaping like a clown fish and Draco knotted his fingers together, worrying them within his lap.  
Tan, warm fingers lay on top of his, and then began to pull them out, soothingly rubbing down each knuckle, tracing circles into the tops of his hands and the bones of his wrists.  
“I don’t know why you would think I would just stop being your friend because of one person.”  
Draco opened his mouth to disagree. “But he’s your-.”  
“Yes, I trust him and he’s an important person to me, but…he’s entirely wrong. He doesn’t know you like I do. And if it was you instead of Hermione that day, he would have seen that. He would have seen the person that you actually are, not what people… what stupid people think because of your name.”   
Draco blushed, a warmth running up his body, diffusing his nerves and Harry placed his hands calmly back on his lap, a red smear of paint high up on his cheekbones.   
“And what type of person am I?” Draco smiled crookedly, peeking up at Harry from his lashes, breaking the tension.  
Harry swallowed, the moment drew out and Draco was woozy from the heat and intent of his stare, prickles tingling down his nape, tiny hairs lifting in suspended breaths.  
“That you’re a prat.”  
Draco whacked him loudly on the side of his head, and dug his fingers into his sides, the space between his ribcage and abdomen the most susceptible.  
Harry shrieked, and pushed him away, giggling between breaths as he tried to escape. He didn’t seem to be trying too hard, and Draco gave him one last pinch before he stood up, shielding his eyes against the sun as he held out a hand to lift Harry up, staggering only a little as Harry grinned down at him.  
Draco rolled his eyes and wondered if a conversation was all it took, or if this was just a cover-up for things too difficult to say.  
Harry tilted his head toward the lakes edge, and Draco followed him, walking cautiously towards Hermione and Ron, slowing his steps to a crawl as they neared.  
Truthfully, he was sort of weary and tired, and didn’t feel in the mood to talk now, least of all to Ron and Hermione who would expect an apology that Draco was not going to give.  
Malfoy’s simply never apologized, and were never wrong.  
It was a fact.  
“Do you want to just head back up to the castle?” Harry whispered, his hand brushing Draco’s.  
Draco nodded, “Yeah, can we go up to my rooms?”  
Harry nodded as well, and waved to his fellow Gryffindor’s as Draco lifted a hand weakly at Hermione’s questioning stare.  
They walked quickly, and didn’t speak, their feet matching in tandem as they walked up the steps to Draco’s dorm.   
Terry lay on his bed, grumpily glaring at them both as Draco collapsed on his bed and toed off his shoes.   
“The brigades back together then?” Terry asked snidely.  
Harry glanced over at Terry and took off his cloak, throwing it at the foot of Draco’s bed. “Of course.” Harry grinned. “Were you hoping for the opposite?”  
“Not at all,” Terry answered at once. “It’ll be nice to have some quite around here.”  
“Hey.” Draco whined. “I thought it was all good bonding time.”   
Terry rolled his eyes and Harry frowned as he climbed up onto his bed, crawling over to sit next to Draco.   
Their shoulders brushed, an inch separated their hips and Draco sunk deeply into his pillow.  
Harry stared up at the ceiling, tapping his stomach softly.   
Terry made a disgruntled noise, and slammed his book shut. “I’m going to the library if you need me.’  
“Ok.” Draco said to his retreating back.  
Harry watched him go, a battle of emotion flitting across his face, each one more minute to the next that there was no discernable trait Draco could make out except for a flicker of desperation, easily vanquished to the next thought.  
“We’re ok?” Harry asked, his gaze never once straying from the hangings on his bed.  
Draco thought it was a funny thing to ask.   
Because all Draco wanted was for Harry to lay next to him and hold him close, wrap his arms around his body in more than just friendship.   
Draco wanted to paint their names across his skin and breathe in more than the air they blew away.  
He wanted to suck in lungful’s and engulf him until he realized that there would be no one else.  
He wanted, he wanted, he wanted.  
But, that would be selfish.   
And Draco had promised himself months ago that he would hold onto the places of Harry he could touch for as long as he was allowed.  
“We’re ok.” Draco agreed.


End file.
